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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989036">Don't Blame Me (love made me crazy)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanekicure/pseuds/kanekicure'>kanekicure</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Andrew Minyard Loves Neil Josten, Exy (All For The Game), Fluff and Angst, Gentle Sex, Kevin Day is a Good Friend, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Neil Josten, Sexual Content, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, here we go!!!, neil punches a bitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:07:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,016</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanekicure/pseuds/kanekicure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Neil Josten was never supposed to become… this.</p><p>He was never supposed to become his shadow, his knife, his backbone. Neil Josten was never supposed to be the person that Andrew looks for first when he enters the room, or the person he would take with him when he left. Neil was never supposed to be the first person who could block demons that Andrew never spoke of, he wasn’t supposed to be the person who touched him and made his soul settle instead of fight. He wasn’t supposed to become the person, for that the moment Andrew had lost him - no matter how short of time - that it felt like someone had come and taken his arm and lung. </p><p>Andrew fucking hated it. </p><p>-</p><p>Or, Neil Josten surprises Andrew Minyard again, but this time, someone's nose gets broken in the process.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Don't Blame Me (love made me crazy)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonicee/gifts">lemonicee</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello!!!! I hope you enjoy this @lemonicee!!</p><p>I would like to first apologize because I ended up playing all of Taylor Swift's music while writing this so it was also heavily influenced with "Delicate" as well ;_; BUT I loveeeeee "Don't Blame Me" and I hope you think it connects!</p><p>Also, badass Neil, LOVE LOVE LOVE that you mentioned that, big respect. </p><p>Hope you enjoy some fluffy boys! With a side of angst. </p><p>also, here's the <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2ItHykomWnsEQ8wjrybENU?si=w3AIN-RfT--VBqNPZKe9YQ">Mix Tape Playlist!!</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Neil Josten was never supposed to become… this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was never supposed to become his shadow, his knife, his backbone. Neil Josten was never supposed to be the person that Andrew looks for first when he enters the room, or the person he would take with him when he left. Neil was never supposed to be the first person who could block demons that Andrew never spoke of, he wasn’t supposed to be the person who touched him and made his soul settle instead of fight. He wasn’t supposed to become the person, for that the moment Andrew had lost him - no matter how short of time - that it felt like someone had come and taken his arm and lung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew fucking hated it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hated that he sort of really wanted Neil to stay, hated how he wanted to see if Neil would really </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If maybe, Andrew’s death wouldn’t come so soon and maybe, it wouldn’t be so lonely as he once thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated being weak, or being vulnerable, he hated it because one day Neil could get up and leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated it because he wasn’t sure if he could survive if he did. Like that last lit candle in a blackened room being blown away - the last spark of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>would be gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Neil could, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> find someone better, someone who has edges less sharp, someone who could smile without it being a sneer. Andrew could imagine it sometimes, having to watch Neil walk up and wrap his arms around another - press one of those infuriating cheek kisses on a stranger. Watch them go off together, and announce their relationship, to kiss in front of others and giggle in secret. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew hated how Neil was it for him, and that it could change for Neil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But more importantly, he hated it most, when Neil proved it all wrong - again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It starts with another fucking exy game, it’s always an exy game that brings the downfall. At the very least, it was a home game and that means Andrew doesn’t have to be crammed onto the bus with other sweaty young adults. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, and he means that very loosely, the bus rides </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> be nice to just sit and let his mind drift. But recently, with the end of the season coming and the inevitable graduation of the girls, and more importantly, Dan - Neil is being forced to take a bigger role in his leadership. So now, where Andrew used to be able to pillow his head on top of Neil’s while they drove, he has to shove his earbuds in and put his head on the glass while the other players come to pesture Neil about strategies and new drills. It’s insufferable. Especially when afterwards Neil is so strung up on anxiety it takes Andrew practically forcing his eyes closed for him to get some rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, that doesn’t matter with home games. Instead, Andrew just has to watch Neil run himself ragged with drills and practices while also burning a hole into the dorm room floor as he paces after being forcibly locked out of the court.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The following sentences have become commonplace, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What if we don’t win?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> or less commonly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What if it was a fluke?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Unspokenly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What if it isn’t good enough for the Moriyamas?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It probably doesn’t help that Kevin is their roommate and only adds to the fire of anxiety in Neil’s gut, agreeing with the statements or telling him that they have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>try harder, go farther, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not lose focus. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Today though, it’s gotten bad enough that Andrew can’t take it anymore. Stubbing out his cigarette, his hops off the window ledge and makes his way to grab a quivering Neil who is picking his scars bloody. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it,” he snaps, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, and pulling him up from the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andrew, what are you doing? We still need to talk-” Kevin starts but is effectively cut off as Andrew focuses a glare over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk when the game isn’t six fucking hours away.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kevin looks like he’s about to argue, but falls short when he glances over to stare at Neil, who has dissociated from the conversation completely. The episodes weren’t new, Neil had been having them since he had shown up at Palmetto with black hair and brown eyes - but now, since Baltimore, they were becoming more frequent and it was enough to raise alarm bells in Andrew’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kevin, as much as he was Exy obsessed, still cared about his… </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends, </span>
  </em>
  <span>more. Even if he got it a little skewed up sometimes and said the wrong things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead of arguing, he only nods, before sitting down on the couch and picking up a book from the side table - his own promise of keeping to himself and not pry while Andrew took Neil to bring him down. It has become a routine, one that he was sure neither of them were thrilled about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Abram,” Andrew murmurs against Neil’s head, keeping clear of his scars as he brought the auburn into the bedroom and sat him down onto the bed, “Snap out of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Neil was like this, he wasn’t completely unresponsive all the time, he still followed Andrew’s guiding hand and he still tried to communicate back - but the hazed look in his eyes never dissipated. It was the start of something that could very easily spiral into a full blown episode if Andrew couldn’t pull him from it - he would know, it was something he fought with daily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though, when Andrew had episodes, Neil brought him down without touch, unless Andrew reached out first. In the past, even the kindest touch of another brough sinister things, so Neil kept Andrew wrapped in blankets with hot coco and stayed by his side talking about mundane things. That worked, most times. With Neil, Andrew was starting to realize how much touch mattered, to keep his hands soft, and his grip light. Neil didn’t know kind touch, or gentleness, it was the only reminder he could give the other that he wasn’t with the monsters his head was sure to be supplying him with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew never thought he would be good at this, his hands too torn and ragged, too harsh and stripped from softness. But he tried, for Neil, he always tried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And somehow it always worked, because as time slowly ticked on Neil’s eyes cleared and his breath came out in a shuttered gasp- like the blockade in his throat finally gave way. His body melting more heavily onto Andrew’s own, sliding into the offered touch and pressing into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Abram?” Andrew asks against his hair, and Neil hums quietly. It lets the relief break into Andrew’s gut - they had avoided the disastrous collision this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I do it again?” Neil asks quietly, his voice hoarse from the disuse and pressure of keeping his breathing so controlled and quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew tilts his face to press his mouth to Neil’s hair, in the ghost of a kiss he nods, “You’re pushing yourself too much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Andrew cuts in, pulling away so he can look Neil in the eye, “No you don’t. We’re fine, more than fine, alright? Stop thinking about the Moriyamas, stop thinking about what will happen if we lose because </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>will. We don’t need to worry about them until pros, and even then, they aren’t going to lay a hand on you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil frowns, the quiet tremble in his hands makes something heavy seattle in his stomach. “But, that’s just it. You can’t protect me from them Andrew, you know that, I won’t have you getting caught in the crossfire again because of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s spoken like venom, and memories of shattering glass are itching up the back of Andrew’s mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttering exhale of Neil stops it though, so Andrew reaches around and grasps the other’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That isn’t your choice to make, now stop thinking so much about the fucking future and worry about now.” Andrew grits, trying to aim his tone for uninterested, but he knows the clutch he has on the other gives him away, “for example, what you’re making me for lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andrew-” Neil starts, probably to call him out on the conversation diversion but Andrew clamps a hand around his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Neil. Don’t. This is not something I will discuss with you right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t think he could ever tell Neil that he would rather die protecting him then live on without him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How far he’s fallen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil has gone quiet, searching Andrew’s eyes and probably seeing the answers Andrew doesn’t want him too. Before he nods, quietly looking down and leaning his head completely on Andrew’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, for calming me down.” He says quietly, and Andrew only hums in response reaching up to thread his fingers throughout the curly mess on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep down, he knows this fight isn't over. It’s one that’s plagued them for the year and so since they’ve been </span>
  <em>
    <span>together, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Neil still struggles with accepting help, but Andrew can be patient- for now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want waffles.” Andrew blurts out and Neil groans, rolling out of his hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For lunch?” He asks, face screwed up in judgment and Andrew shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carbs, they’ll make me perform better tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought the mandatory ice cream trip we make after every game does that?” Neil accuses, eyes only narrowing more as Andrew sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My prices have risen due to unforeseen circumstances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m hungry,” Andrew responds flatly, “So waffles, with the chocolate chips I bought last week.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You already ate those,” Neil grumbles, pushing himself to his feet and slinking off to the bedroom door before pausing, “And you have to come with me to deal with Kevin’s bitching.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew supposes that’s fair, so he does get up to follow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that Neil knows that this is a distraction, but the new deal helps Andrew think that Neil won’t look too closely into why Andrew plans to defend the goal with his life tonight. If only to ensure that Neil sleeps a little easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The game goes to shit pretty fucking fast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the very least, Neil has calmed down only slightly, still bouncing on his toes but it’s in a more good natured excitement to get back on the court than the overwhelming fear of being sniped from the mafia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even getting changed, Neil doesn't seem too concerned about his scars. He’s talking with Matt and the freshmen are behaving for now - fucking Jack doesn’t even make a comment tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead everyone continues to change, Andrew keeps an eye on Neil as he shrugs out of his shirt and begins strapping his armour into place. Neil is hopping between his feet, a sure sign of the before game adrenaline as he chats to Matt about a new defensive move they could try and sink up together on the court. Andrew hates to admit how relieved he is to see Neil back to his usual junkie self but, if Neil looks at him from across the locker room and Andrew softens his gaze - well no one needs to know but them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s when they make it past half time that things start going down hill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Foxes had taken an early lead thanks to the more than strong starting line up of the original Foxes, but Wymack began switching the freshmen into their places and the point gap began closing by each passing moment. The Bearcats were becoming more vicious and desperate as the time went on and by the time they struck half time the team had found themselves with two red cards already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to lose,” Neil hisses to him, sitting beside Andrew on the bench and prying off his helmet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew sighs, “It’s fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No it’s not,” Nicky cries from his position on Neil’s right, “No we are fucked, we are so fucked, their offensive line is like a fucking defensive line!” He slaps both of his hands onto his face and curls over himself with a groan and Andrew has never wanted to punch his cousin more. He doesn’t need people adding to Neil’s already mounting anxiety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Said person’s face is already a pale white as he wrings his hands in front of himself, “Yeah, fuck they aren’t messing around today, are they?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing is, the Foxes are on the cusps of making it into finals again, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>aren’t messing around either. And it isn’t like they are doing bad, it’s just the fucking freshmen and the Foxes inability to mesh well with new people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever, it wasn’t Andrew’s problem. He doesn’t care about this stupid game. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But... he cares about Neil in the end, so he reaches over and squeezes the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be fine, Junkie.” He murmurs, hoping it’s enough of a statement for Neil to decode the promise underneath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil is silent, but he nods, eyes shifting back to the scoreboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>6:6.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can do that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when half time is over, and Neil is already jogging out to his position on the court, Andrew </span>
  <span>moves to stop Renee from walking on too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going on for the rest of the game.” He says and Renee only gives a small smile before nodding, not even having the courtesy of looking surprised. Wymack, however, looks up from his clipboard with a frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Playing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wymack huffs, leaning against the plexiglass wall with a smirk, “Trying to save our asses, Minyard?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Andrew grumbles, but still pushes through the doors anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He settles into the goal, glancing forward and watching the Bearcats line themselves into position, faces flushed dangerous reds - Andrew doesn’t think it's from exsuation now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew looks to Neil, who is in position, legs bent only slightly as he wrings his hands along his Exy stick. Hesitant blue eyes shift and meet hazel, and Andrew knows that Neil is just as desperate as the opposing team right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew lifts his fingers and forms a zero with them, just so Neil knows that’s how many goals the Bearcats will be making tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then ref blows the whistle, and Andrew keeps his word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catching and blocking every shot one of the Bearcats strikers try to land on him is easy enough, they don’t have the same tricky feet work the Raven’s did nor do they have the overwhelming skill as the Trojans have. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hits the ball away again, ignoring the colourful curses slipping out of the mouth of one of the strikers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Motherfucker,” The man snarls, he lunges forward as his lips curl up in snear. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>catches Andrew’s attention, he cocks his head to the side to size up the Bearcat. Sure the man was large, taller than Andrew, but that wasn’t saying much, and he was also on the bulker side but it wasn’t anything Andrew couldn’t handle in a fight. He leans forward on his heels to get into the man’s space, resting his arms on his racquet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man makes another aborted growl before one of his teammates walks by and slaps him in the chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” They snap, and the Bearcat doesn’t tear his eyes away from Andrew as they let themselves be pushed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benson, Andrew notes, is what his jersey tells him. Andrew flexes his fingers, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what a stupid name.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck was that?” Matt asks, and Andrew doesn’t even bother to look over. Instead he swings his racquet up and over his shoulders so he can hang his arms off it while waiting for the reset. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you stop letting them through, then we won’t have to worry about what </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was.” Andrew gripes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt snorts, as if Andrew was trying to be funny, “Aye, aye,” he mocks, throwing an overdramatic salute before jogging away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew supposes he can see why Neil calls Matt his </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, Andrew makes sure to keep the goal as locked down as he did with the Ravens. He sometimes wonders why everyone seems to think that it’s effortless or born from blind skill because it’s honestly a bitch to keep his eyes focused on the ball flying around the court and adjusting his body in case his backliners fail to keep the offense away </span>
  <em>
    <span>again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But during this, Andrew can also watch Neil in his element. Weaving past the backliners like dodging most the threats of this life, the quick fingers over his racquet as he closes in on the goal, the way he knows to strike just to the left of the goalies foot because he had already spotted the weakness on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the wall behind lights up red, Neil’s smile is dazzling when he spins around - even through the grate of his helmet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew’s chest tightens at the sight of Neil throwing one fist into the air as he takes back down the court to prepare for a new play, blue eyes alight with that burning passion. It makes him grip his racquet tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil scores again only minutes later, his laugh is high and joyous and Kevin even slaps him on the back in congratulations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the flip side, the Bearcats can’t manage a single goal on Andrew. He hits away every attempt and takes a distinct pleasure from watching the mounting rage grow on the strikers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He supposes it makes sense that one of them snaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the same guy from before, Benson, bulky and angry. Andrew supposes that he swats away one to many of his shots and he decides to keep barreling forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike all the gear made for every other player on the court, goalies armour is much thinner, made to deflect balls and give mobility, not to take the brunt of another human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when Benson comes slamming into Andrew at full speed, it takes him out. Andrew doesn’t even have the time to gain his footing because he was too damn concerned about making sure the ball didn’t make it into his area, than to have time worrying if a striker was going to lose his chill. Andrew feels the air slammed out of his lungs as his feet kick up and he hits the plexiglass wall behind him with a deafening crack of his gear - all the while bearing the entire weight of a full overgrown man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew hates the moment of ice cold shock that runs through his body and the way his skin crawls because of the grasping hands of a stranger. He kicks his knees up into Benson’s gut but the man is already pulling back and curling his hand into a fist, swinging it down at Andrew’s chest. The impact knocks any air free again that he had recovered before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, Andrew can hear the furious roaring of the crowd and the shouts of what he assumes is his teammates. Going for the goalie is the dirtiest trick in the book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew goes for the man’s throat, but his head is still dizzy from impact and he’s struggling to catch his breath. He’s at a complete disadvantage and he can feel the corners of his vision beginning to blur in alarm of an oncoming panic attack of being stuck underneath another. The alarm bells in his head screeching at the highest pitch </span>
  <em>
    <span>get out get out get out get outgetoutgetoutgetour-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But before it can get any worse, the ugly picture of the snarling Benson is ripped off of him and Andrew can suck in a much needed breath of air. The panic attack from earlier is still a threat though, he tries to clutch his fingers into the ground below but he can’t feel anything besides the rough texture of his gloves and his back armour digging into his spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-ndrew, Andrew!” A voice is screaming above him, and suddenly his vision is swimming with an image of Aaron. His helmet is off, revealing his sweaty hair plastered to his face, wild eyes and flushed cheeks. He keeps looking up, towards something else before looking back down at Andrew. “Andrew can you hear me? You need to get up-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off.” Andrew rasps, shoving Aaron’s face away and forcing himself up into a sitting position, using the wall behind him as support. Aaron’s hand comes to his back anyways to help him up, and Andrew doesn’t find it worth the energy to shrug him away; so he fumbles with the straps of his helmet before yanking it off and tossing it to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when he clues in to what Aaron had been frantically looking at before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had already been able to hear the grunts and shouts from ahead, the distinct sound of cursing and a fist hitting flesh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, Andrew sees Neil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who is sitting atop Benson's chest - his helmet thrown to the ground, his gloves missing as he swings another punch onto the man’s face, which is also exposed. Andrew doesn’t have time to figure out if Benson was the one to remove it or Neil had ripped it off to get a clearer shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood is running down Neil’s chin from his nose, splattering onto the ground as he winds up each punch to do maximum damage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benson is trying desperately to fight back too, but he is at a severe disadvantage because of Neil using his knee to press into the other’s throat. The man claws at Neil’s knees, or reaches frantically for his arms but Neil is using one to bash away the teammates that are scurrying forward and trying to break them up; while the other is aiming to do as much damage to Benson as possible</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neil-” Andrew croaks, his voice still wheezy from the blow to his chest, but Neil is on a one way track to getting a red card and he can’t have that happening now, “Neil, stop.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is this how Neil feels when he gets knocked down and wakes up to Andrew trying to rip apart whoever hurt him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Neil’s face has shifted into a sneer, even as Matt dodges around Neil’s swinging arm and grasps onto his shoulders, yanking him backwards. Benson’s teammates also lunge forward at the same time and help the man to his feet as he coughs raggedly, finding his torn voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fucking psycho! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>motherfucker</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you need to be fucking locked up somewhere.” He sputters, but Neil’s ice blue eyes flash up, he isn’t wearing his father’s grin that Neil fears so  - no, he wears one that is completely cold and another part of Neil entirely. He flashes his teeth bloody and lined with red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Close your fucking mouth freak.” Benson snarls, pushing against his teammates, as the referee comes jogging down the court attempting to get inbetween the two, “Hope the fucking FBI puts a bullet between your eyes like your fucking daddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil’s grin turns maniac as it widens, before he spits his blood directly onto Benson's face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful,” Neil hisses, “My daddy taught me lots of things if you want me to show you, how’s that sound little Brainy Benson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The use of his full name sends Benson stumbling back into his teammates,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ho- How do you even fucking know that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil opens his mouth to respond but Matt stops it by firmly clamping his hand over it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the last thing Andrew can take before he’s stumbling to his feet, Aaron frantically trying to follow him to keep him steady but Andrew shrugs him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both of you, get off my fucking court,” The referee is saying, “Red cards to both of you now </span>
  <em>
    <span>go.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil doesn’t even seem phased which isn’t right because they need to win this game, Neil needs to be on the field to assure himself that he’ll win, Neil </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>get kicked off because Neil will go fucking insane watching from the sidelines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew makes it halfway to Neil before he manages to pull free of Matt, meeting Andrew as he wipes the blood away from his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Neil is starting to say but Andrew cuts him off by grabbing the collar of his jersey and hauling him in. Distantly he hears the referee bark something else to him but Andrew is shaking too bad to care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck was the Abram?” Andrew spits, “You just got yourself kicked out of your own fucking game, and for fucking what? You knew I would be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil’s eyes are heavy as they studies Andrew’s face quietly, like every other time before, Andrew hates how they seemingly pull the hidden truths out of his expression with ease. He hates how the chaos around them has faded to background noise as the anger from before is swept away from Neil’s shoulder’s the moment Andrew touches him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was watching your back,” Neil shrugs, “You coming off with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Josten! Get off the fucking court before I give you another penalty for holding up the game.” The referee warns from behind and Andrew lets go of his jersey, shoving Neil lightly before turning on his heels and walking back to the goal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of us needs to make sure we fucking win, asshole.” Andrew snaps over his shoulder, ignoring the referee who comes over to ask if he needs to stand off and to watch his own temper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even bother to watch Neil walk off the court, head held high and not an ounce of nerves on his shoulder even though he did one of the worst things he could’ve for himself. Moriyama's might not care about one lost game or championship in university, but they are going to notice a bloody fist fight in the middle of the game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew shoves his helmet on with a grumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would never understand Josten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They win the game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a solid score of 9:6, thanks to Neil’s two scores, Kevin’s one and Andrew not allowing a single one of the Bearcat’s shots to land in the home goal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dodges the celebrating Foxes, as well as the questions of concern, instead focusing on reaching Neil who had already been sent away by Wymack. He shoves his way through the doors, only hearing Abby’s parting question if he needed to be looked at and focused on getting to the changing rooms instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds Neil standing still in front of the mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His image reflects a distorted image because of the horizontal crack that runs along the glass - caused by a fight or someone's breakdown that Andrew hadn’t cared about enough to remember in the haze of his drugs. It makes Neil look sorrowful as he stares back at himself, a finger digging into his cheek and hooking along his scars. Eyes focused on the bandaged taped over his nose from the fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it,” Andrew says, keeping his tone even as he comes to stand behind Neil, “Go shower so we can get back to the dorms.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil grits his teeth as he meets Andrew’s eyes through the mirror, “He deserved worse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew freezes - everything inside of him comes to a screeching halt. He was sure this was going to be Neil being upset about acting ‘like his father’ or ‘looking like him.’ Be angry about the game, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>else. Just, not the fact that he hadn’t had the chance to do more damage to some striker who should have become irrelevant already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter, Neil.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil turns, quickly, “Maybe not to you, but anyone who pulls shit like that to you- I’ll… I’ll fucking-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Andrew interrupts coldly, “Beat them up? Hurt them? Kill them? Just because they pushed me around?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Neil responds without hesitation, “Even if you don’t care if you get hurt, I’m not letting that shit past. I told you I’d watch your back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew’s mouth is dry as he swallows around a growing lump in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never asked you too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil blinks, staring at Andrew, speaking one last time before he walks to the stalls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words he says echo in Andrew’s ears, even as he hears Neil turn on the shower and can make out the sounds of the team returning, their shouts of victory echoing off the changing room walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not enough to drown it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And you’ll never have too.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Andrew and Neil are silent on the drive home. In the back seat, Kevin, Aaron and Nicky are already talking about their plans for the party happening in the upperclassmen dorm, it would be annoying if it wasn’t the only thing keeping Andrew from thinking obsessively over the past hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tightens his grip on the wheel, frustrated at Neil and himself. Neil for being an idiot and doing things that always left Andrew staring back in awe, and angry at himself for </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling </span>
  </em>
  <span>this much to begin with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil picked Andrew over Exy. That was the bottom line that he could come too, that if it really came down to it, that Neil would choose to protect Andrew than play the game that was quite literally his </span>
  <em>
    <span>life</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It pissed him off beyond understanding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they make it back to the dorms, and the others have made a beeline for their room, Andrew isn’t sure where Neil stands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks nervous, anxious, while he is fiddling with the edge of his hoodie and avoiding Andrew’s eyes. He slips past Kevin and Andrew both, to go to the washroom and Andrew can hear the sound of him locking the door behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Kevin asks, he has stepped out of Andrew’s bubble - probably to avoid stray knives - but he still eyes him quietly and Andrew has to resist letting the annoyance show on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Just get ready for your stupid party.” He snaps, it’s a warning that he isn’t in the mood for whatever shit Kevin has in mind, even if it is just general concern. He’s taken much worse than a Striker to the gut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Kevin stares at him for a few more moments before sighing and stalking off to the bedroom to get changed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Andrew has to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to resist knocking on the bathroom door to see if Neil’s okay. Instead, going over to find something to drink in the kitchen, perferly with alcohol - he isn’t going to a fucking party with the goddamn upperclassmen sober. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he’s going, Andrew realizes, since Neil will want too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Andrew even gets to locate his ambrosia, he hears the sound of a door closing and the murmuring of Neil and Kevin talking in passing. It’s a calm enough cadence that it doesn’t raise the hairs on the back of his neck, but he still does exit the kitchen to follow Neil into the bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna find something to drink.” Kevin says, slipping past them but Andrew pays him no mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil’s hands are shaking, his face pale and he looks like he’s going to be sick. He’s standing at the edge of their dresser, hand curled into one of the drawers - probably looking for something to wear for tonight but he seems frozen in the action. Andrew doesn’t know why he’s surprised, he figured that this is how the junkie would react to receiving his first red card but he’s at a loss as to what he should do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Abram?” Andrew prods, watching the recognition filter into soft blue - at least he isn’t having a panic attack. “Is this going to be a new thing? Standing still and looking into nothing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small flick of his lips is all Andrew can make out, before Neil shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” He murmurs, “I just… I don’t want to - no, I don’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>us </span>
  </em>
  <span>to go out tonight.” Neil finishes quietly, he flicks an almost sad gaze to Andrew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Andrew responds without hesitation, before opening up the bedroom door. He spots Kevin with a vodka bottle raised to his lips as he glances over into Andrew’s direction. “We aren’t coming. Find somewhere else to sleep tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew slams the bedroom door before he can even see the scowl take over Kevin’s features, “Oh come on! You guys can’t keep kicking me out to have sex - Andrew! Neil?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Andrew looks over to Neil, raising his eyebrow in a challenge or question if Neil is going to bother responding but both of them stay silent. Kevin seems to also know he isn’t going to get an answer either judging by the sound of his cursing and grumbling that trails off into silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally the door to the dorm is swung shut and the two of them are left alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a beat of silence as Andrew tries to scrounge up what to say, but Neil is beating him to it. A desperate look crossing his face as he chokes out the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to do worse,” He says it like it’s a confession, “I was so mad Andrew and I’m sorry if I overstepped, if I made you look weak or made it seem like I don’t think you can protect yourself because I know! I know you can Andrew, it just makes me so fucking mad that you have to in the first place, that you have to constantly check your back because no one has ever done it for you before - no one has done it </span>
  <em>
    <span>right </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it just makes me so fucking angry. I hate it, I hate feeling like I can’t do more, I hate feeling like I have to watch from the sidelines when you get hit. I just - I just wish-” Neil shakes his head, hands reaching up to comb through his wiry curly hair, “I hate always falling back on you and you always catch me, but you have no one to catch you if you fall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finishes, Neil is shaking visibly. Andrew knows he is too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lump is back, the same fucking lump that always comes whenever Neil does something like this. He can feel some younger, tramautized version of himself stomping his feet in anger and tell Neil to fuck off - because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>need protecting. He’s been perfectly fine on his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other part, knows that Neil knows that already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other part also knows that Neil is the same, that both of them are perfectly fine and capable of fighting their own demons; they have had too, every single day of their sad little lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only difference, here and between them, is that they don’t have to alone anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew swallows the lump down, “And here I thought you were just upset about Exy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil blinked owlishly at him for a moment, raising an eyebrow he sputters, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Exy</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What about Exy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exy, you know, the game that your life is tied to, the one that you can’t afford to get kicked off from for minor issues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mouth slightly agape, Neil scoffs, “Andrew, how many times have you tried to go after someone who specifically targeted me on the court? You don’t care about the risk of being red carded- So you can’t honestly think that I’d pick some Exy game over you right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Andrew doesn’t respond, Neil’s brows bunch together, he looks like he’s debating over something for a few moments before he starts walking towards Andrew. He almost looks angry and it’s an ironic situation, he knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a fucking idiot, Andrew.” Neil whispers once he’s closer, “You have no right to ever call an idiot again if you truly believe that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart is pounding in his chest, Andrew hates how Neil makes him feel, how alive this one man makes his body and how </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad he needs him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How he doesn’t truly believe that, because Neil has never given him a reason to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, in a mix of not wanting to answer, of knowing that they have always spoken better with their bodies and the other just simply wanting to feel Neil against him, Andrew asks, “Yes or no,” and Neil lunges forward to meet Andrew’s lips. Colliding with him just as harshly as Andrew comes to him. Lips crushed together as Andrew reaches for Neil’s face and he feels skilled fingers curl into his hair - threading through his blond locks, never pulling, just a light grip that makes shivers dance down his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil has been on the edge, and Andrew knows just the way to wind him back down. He knows exactly how to settle him back into his body and have him cry out Andrew’s name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A kiss to his neck, is another reminder that Neil knows the same for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Andrew grits out, feeling Neil pause but Andrew clamps one hand on the back of his head to keep him from being able to look, “I know you are watching my back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lump in his throat hasn’t left, the dryness of his mouth makes it harder to speak. “I trust you to watch it Neil, you’re the idiot if you think I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the closest thing to a confession that they can get.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft exhale ghosts his neck, he knows it’s Neil laughing but it isn’t malice in the least. It’s gentle, it’s an exhale of relief or something else that Andrew isn’t ready to put a name too yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Andrew loosens his hold on Neil’s head and the auburn kisses his way back up, his eyes have lost all the harshness to them. The desperate grip to their fingers has disappeared as he looks into Andrew’s gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Neil whispers, a small smile tipping his lips again before Andrew closes the space between them so he doesn’t have to look any longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fears what he’ll say if he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the burning anger, and the need to reel Neil back in is gone. Instead, a quiet gentleness that neither of them will acknowledge settles over like a soft quilt, Andrew can still feel Neil’s trembling body against him as he walks them back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil’s legs and back hit the bunk beds, and Andrew pushes on his shoulders to get him to duck down. Once sitting and staring up at Andrew with a wide, open expression and flushed cheeks; Andrew pulls his black shirt over his head and strips off his armbands without a second thought. The knives clank against each other as they hit the floor but Andrew pays little mind as he ducks back down to kiss Neil again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits for warm hands to spread over his chest but, like he should’ve known, it doesn’t come. So Andrew has to reach up, hook a thumb against Neil’s lower lip and whisper, “You can touch me, anywhere but my ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil moans, as if the very thought of getting to touch Andrew gives him that much pleasure and his palms spread across Andrew’s shoulder blades. They kiss again, and again, and again, before Andrew can’t take the bulky black hoodie in the way of touching Neil’s body and he tries to pull it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes to sit up, while straddling Neil, but the other quickly darts up to grasp the back of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful,” Neil hisses, “Bunk bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew raises an eyebrow at him, “I know Neil.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the sentiment doesn’t slip past Andrew as he helps carefully pry off Neil’s clothes, slipping off the bed to help unbuckle the jeans and watch Neil lift himself to allow Andrew to pry them off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he comes back, Neil’s face is flushed a deep red, his breath comes out roughly as he hooks his legs around Andrew’s waist. His fingers digging into the hard flesh of Andrew’s arms as he grinds up against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” Andrew asks, kissing up the later’s neck and nipping at the base of his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil squirms under him, “You, you I-” he arches his neck to give Andrew better access as he stumbles over his next words, “Inside me, I want you inside me, close to me if that’s- what you want too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heat blooms across Andrew’s body at the words, he muffles his curse into Neil’s shoulder at the thought. This is the first time that Neil has ever asked for this, they had only done this particular dance so many times - their first time going all the way was only a few months ago and since then, they had never done it here - in the dorms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Andrew would be damned if he said no right now, because Neil pulls away to stare up at him with reddening cheeks and something inside of him needs to be close to Neil too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he supposes he always does like being close to Neil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he tips his forehead forward to press against Neil’s and he nods his head, “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil grin turns into a shit eating one as he nods his head with Andrew, letting him go from the clasp of his legs and pushing on his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on then, go get the stuff.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew scoffs, ducking off of the bed and moving for their bedside drawer, grabbing the lube bottle and pulling a condom off the strip. When he turns back to return to Neil, he’s lying diagonally on the bed, now completely nude, he has one arm pillowed under his head while the other is splayed out on the sheets. He’s watching Andrew through lidded eyes, and Andrew will never admit to the way he unbuckles his jeans in a haste to stumble his way into Neil’s arms just as naked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really never thought he would get this, he never thought he’d find someone like this, he never thought he’d find </span>
  <em>
    <span>Neil.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew lays down diagonally too, looking directly at Neil who flashes a shy smile, Andrew can see the nerves still dancing along his body. In the twitches of his fingers or the flash of his eyes, the flush that’s spread to his chest as he curls in on himself ever so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Andrew reaches out to him and brings him into his arms, the position is new, but Andrew thinks they can manage as he curls one arm through the gap between Neil’s head and his shoulder, and his other arm reaches around to smooth down his back. He feels along each bump and ridge as he goes, listening to the quiet intakes of Neil’s breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still a yes?” Andrew asks, pressing his forehead into Neil’s again, who sighs and nods. Wiggling just a little bit closer to Andrew so they were almost pressed completely together, lifting his leg to grasp it in his hand and hold it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, come on, I wanna feel you.” Neil mumurus and that’s all Andrew needs to hear before he’s grabbing the lube and moving to work Neil open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was one of his favourite things to do, holding Neil close to his chest, feeling each twitch and moan of Neil as he prepped him - being intimately close with him as he knew how to work every spot to get just the right reaction out of him. He could get off on making Neil feel good alone, on listening to the quiet sighs into the crook of his neck, or the spasm of Neil’s arms that clutched him tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or when Neil deemed it time, always too early, because Andrew still had to wait for longer - do more work. But they would reach the point where neither of them could take it any longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil is the one grabbing the condom this time, eyes darting up to meet Andrew’s nod before he moves to grasp Andrew and place it on. The first time had left Andrew biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from rolling his eyes at Neil for being unable to figure out how one worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now though, he figures it out pretty fast before coating lube onto Andrew and hitching his leg higher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this gonna work this way?” Neil breathes and Andrew shrugs, because he honestly doesn’t know but he wants to try. So he reaches forward and digs his fingers into Neil’s hips to pull him up more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try,” Andrew says, shifting his hips closer as Neil guides Andrew to himself, breath coming out in a gasp at the first press. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a little more maiovering, but they figure it out and Andrew is pressing completely into Neil. Both of them on their sides facing each other with Neil’s leg hitched around Andrew’s arm, before it rests on his shoulder. There’s no space between their bodies - this way Andrew can hold him as close as possible as he begins moving slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil is already a mess, groaning against Andrew’s collar bones as one hand goes to press against Andrew’s chest and the other is squished between the pillow and Andrew’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” Andrew grunts, his own hand cradling Neil’s face as well and brushing his sweaty bangs away while the other tries to keep Neil’s free leg in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very okay,” Neil moans, grinding down onto him, pitching a noise out of his chest that makes Neil grin, “Fucking amazing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew’s heart squeezes, as he buries his face in closer to his partner and lets the feeling carry them away. He can hear the bed creak under their bodies, can feel the cramping of his legs from the weird position and feel the uncomfortable sweat growing on their skin because they forgot to turn on the fan but Andrew doesn’t give a fuck. He can hear Neil, can hear the soft giggle that falls from his lips when Andrew completely fucks up a thrust and curses under his breath, can hear the way he moans Andrew’s name when he gets one right or feel the way Neil moves desperately - thinking that he has to do more to make Andrew feel good even though Andrew knows he’s never felt better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, Andrew knows he isn’t going to last but before he can try and wiggle a hand between their bodies to try and get Neil off, Neil shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let go, almost there,” He huffs, and Andrew can’t do much else but obey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels the soft sigh Neil let’s go when Andrew falls over the edge inside him, and he feels Neil follow not far behind between their stomachs pressed tightly together. Heaving chests push against the other, but Neil just slumps completely against Andrew’s body and he takes it without question. Curling his arms up and around the scarred back and kissing his temples. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their gross, their sticky, but none of it fucking matters because they’re here. Together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil isn’t leaving, Neil’s here, in his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, no one else could do that, holy shit.” Neil laughs against Andrew’s skin, and it’s a fleeting remark to bring conversation back to life after sex. Neil always does it. But the comment is deeper than that and Andrew can hear what he’s really trying to say from a mile away.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No one else, because you’re it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Andrew knows better than to be surprised that Neil is still meeting him every step of the way. Instead, he just leans down and kisses the top of his curly head in a silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>me too. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil Josten was never supposed to become… this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was never supposed to be the hand entwined with him at bed, never supposed to be the one who kisses along his shoulder blades. He was never supposed to be the one that holds him up when air becomes too thin, when the demon’s too large. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t supposed to be the one he wouldn’t die for in bloody protection but rather live for in hopes of something more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was never supposed to be everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, looking back at- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well Andrew supposes that it had been inevitable all along.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed!! All kudos and comments are very much appreciated :) </p><p>come follow my <a href="https://twitter.com/kanekicure%20rel=">twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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